The Liberation of Lordaeron
by The Frost Knight
Summary: Amathor Menethil, Princess Calia's son and legitimate King of Lordaeron, invades his rightgul kingdom to resettle the Human government of the northern lands of Azeroth. In order to retake his throne, Amathor will meet powerful and loyal allies and face mighty and foul enemies; but he will not falter to any battle.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The plague spread fast through the realm of Lordaeron. Part of the blame was Prince Arthas' who, in his rage, blinded his eyes to the truth and brought the doom of the northern realm of men.

I knew Lordaeron hadn't a chance of defeating the Scourge. I tried to convince him to lead his people across the sea, to the western lands of Kalimdor. I warned him of the death of his people. I warned him.

But he wouldn't listen.

His strive to save his realm and his people drove him straight to madness and treason. His sanity was quickly consumed by the Lich King's runic sword, Frostmourne, which Arthas found in Northrend and used to destroy Mal'Ganis and his forces. He then became the Lich King's first and most powerful Death Knight, and the commander of the Scourge. He profaned the Sunwell in order to bring Kel'Thuzad back to life, and they summoned the Burning Legion to destroy the world of Azeroth and everything that once was loved by the young prince.

But Arthas' part isn't important at this point of our story. We already know that his actions were treacherous and nefarious. I now care for his older sister, Calia Menethil, Terenas' firstborn child.

She did escape the desolation of Lordaeron. She was forced, in sadness and tears, to abandon his people to its death. Only a little part of Lordaeron's citizens escaped the Scourge and its foul typhoon of death and decay that destroyed their home. They went south, to the safe realms of Khaz Modan and Azeroth, lead by their brave princess Calia Menethil and her guards.

She was well received by the king of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn, who treated her as the princess she was. In the city of Stormwind, King Varian found her a noble to marry, Lord Deomir. Yet at the start they were completely unknown to each other, they became friends, and with the passing time, they started to love each other. Some months later, she got pregnant from his husband, who wouldn't become father; Deomir died in battle against the Orcen Horde. When Calia heard the news, her heart was deeply broken, and she suffered more than many had suffered in this world.

Some say that the day Deomir died was the day Calia's son was born. She had a healthy and strong child, which she called Amathor. Despite he didn't knew about his real blood in his first ages, he always behaved like a true prince, devoted and humble. The young prince was the pupil of the king himself, and he taught Amathor in the arts of war, diplomacy and economy, beside the ways of a king.

Years later, Calia told Amathor her entire story… and her lineage. She knew that his son was going to gather an army to bring down the Undead's reign of death and misery in his legitimate kingdom. Knowing that, Calia didn't wanted to tell him the truth, but she knew she had to.

I faced Amathor myself. I told him what he had to do to recover his rightful kingdom… But his future, it was covered in dark clouds, even for me.

Who would say that Medivh, the mighty and renowned Prophet, wouldn't be able to predict a mortal's future?


	2. Chapter 1 - Part 1

Before you start reading this fic, I would like to make clear some things: first of all, this fic is a WC3 sequel, and for the geography of the fic, I used as a reference the WC3 campaign's loading screen (you should google it or something), so Brill would be north from Strahnbrad, and further Stratholme, the Capital City is at the west, and so on; I have never played WoW, so, everything that happens in there, doesn't really matters when reading this fic, except for Kel'Thuzad's fortress, Naxxramas (he needed an epic fortress, don't you think?), that in this story, is not a floating fortress. Undercity doesn't exist, Muradin is dead, Sylvanas and Kel'Thuzad are in civil war, fighting for the sovereignty of Lordaeron. Second point I want you to know: I'm a 15 year old boy from Argentina, and in school I have studied French all my life, so, if you find some errors in spelling and orthography, well, you know the reason. I think that stories and music sound better in English than in Spanish.

Well, nothing else to say, pretty sure I forget something but I will remember later.

In the name of the Lich King… Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Rally the Army**

**_Amathor_**

Amathor left the tent and inspired the cold air blowing, with its white snowflakes falling slowly in the clear afternoon. He walked through the camp, respectfully saluting his loyal soldiers. Some were refugees from the old kingdom of Lordaeron, but most of them were soldiers from Azeroth, who wanted to help Amathor in his task to reclaim his rightful kingdom. He knew every single soldier, and they knew him; King Wrynn taught him that a commander had to know his soldiers. He teached him the arts of leadership and war, strategy and diplomacy; he teached him how to rule a kingdom, for he knew that one day, Amathor would try to recover his rightful lands.

The Lordaeron Rebels were an army of about a thousand soldiers, including knights and archers. Yet the largest part of the army was under Amathor's banner and command, the elite forces had their own captains, nobles from Azeroth of great houses that were fierce and strong warriors: Leonidas of the Iron Shields, Kay of the Bronze Swords, Fademir of the Fire Hounds, and more. Humble and good persons at the inn, but when they closed their fists around the hilt, they became brave and skilled warriors, trained in their father castles by expert master-at-arms. None of them would betray Amathor; none of them would falter in battle. Most of the commanders had already arrived to the camp, but yet some still weren't there.

He climbed the stairs of the watchtower to the guardhouse, where one of Allyran's archers watched over the mountain pass. Although Allyran was a very young woman, she was probably the best archer Amathor had ever seen. Besides her accurate aiming, she had a small and flexible body, that allowed her to easily hide and, therefore, to ambush any ogre, undead or orc blindly approaching the camp.

'Have you seen something?', asked Amathor to the guard, who denied with his head slowly, still staring at the horizon, looking for any enemy or allies that could appear. Amathor nodded firmly and left the watchtower.

He gave some orders to a footman, and walked straight to the tent that served as his High Quarters. He then waited for his captains, and they arrived one by one. Kay, Leonidas, Fademir, Jaremy, Allyran, and his closest friend and right hand, Godwin.

'My Lord', saluted Leonidas, leader of the Iron Shields, when he entered the tent. A table was established at the center, and some maps and notes where in it. He sat in a chair, and the war council started.

Amathor looked at them, one by one, and then he took a deep breath.

'My servants, my allies, my friends. The missing commanders should be arriving on this week. The day after the last one arrives, we shall begin the Liberation', said Amathor to his generals.

'It was about time. How many commanders aren't in the camp today?' asked Kay, of the Bronze Swords; a man in his thirty years, quick as an elf and strong as a dwarf. He wore his black hair a little longer than shoulder and a mustache. He was dressed in his commander clothes: a mail and a gray overcoat with his crest in the chest: three bronze colored crossed swords.

'Well', answered Godwin, whose mouth was surrounded by a well cut black beard, and showed the first gray hairs. 'There are about four commanders left… Let me see… Here it is', said Godwin after searching and finding a scroll sheet, with a list of names on it, some of them striked out. 'Let's see… Thadeus, of the Bloodthirsty Dragons, Hallyn, of the Wind Knights, Jaremy… No, you're here… Halael, of the Onyx Lions…'

'My Lords', interrupted Marcus, Amathor's squire, 'Captain Fandral is here'.

As he introduced the captain, he entered the tent. A handsome man, tall, young, with long blond hair and green eyes. He was wielding his armor, light blue colored and with a hawk below a thunder in the chest, both yellow, and carrying his winged helm under his arm. '_A very arrogant man for a twenty-something years old _', thought Amathor. '_I hope he's equally skillful_'.

'I'm here to serve you, my lord. I will fight until you recover your kingdom, or to my last breath', said Fandral, while drawing his sword and kneeling before Amathor. 'The Storm Hawks are yours to command', he finished as he dropped the sword at Amathor's feet.

'You and your soldiers are well welcomed to my camp, Captain Fandral. Let me introduce you Captain Godwin, my right hand, Kay of the Bronze Swords, Fademir of the Fire Hounds, Leonidas of the Iron Shields, Jaremy of the Orc Slayers, and Allyran, captain of the archers.'

'It's an honor to finally meet such renowned soldiers. I thought Thadeus would be here, though.'

'He hasn't arrived the camp yet. He should arrive in no more than three days' answered Leonidas, while Godwin striked out Fandral's name in the captain's list.

'So, the Storm Hawks are here' continued Godwin 'Now the commanders left are the three commanders I named before: Thadeus, Hallyn and Halael…'

'Good. We are almost ready for launching the attack on the Undead domains' said Amathor, while grabbing a map and placing it in the center of the table. 'Allyran, I need you to take a troop of archers and watch over Brill until tomorrow night. I need to know how many Undead are there, and detailed information about any commander or elite troops that may be in town. I give you two hours to chose your soldiers and set out.'

'You can count on me', said Allyran, taking off a lock of hair off her face. She immediately left the tent, her cape whispering in her ankles.

Amathor took a deep breath and stood up. He had nothing else to do in the council, so he ordered Marcus to help Fandral raise his tent. Amathor went out and watched the newcomers set their tents under their banners, showing the crest that Fandral wore on his chest, the hawk below the thunder in the sky-colored background. Black shields, ocher swords, orange dogs and dead orcs were drawn in more than ten banners.

More than a thousand and two hundred soldiers were in the camp, waiting for the Liberation to begin. They didn't knew it, but Amathor was the most anxious in all the camp.


	3. Chapter 1 - Part 2

**Chapter 1: Rally the Army**

_**Godwin**_

He scrutinized the dim pass covered in white snow, waiting for Allyran to arrive. From the watchtower, Godwin dominated the three mountain passes that reached the camp: east, south and northwest. Godwin himself explored the northwest pass, searching for any undead post. The only thing he saw that direction was snow and stones… until he reached the ogre houses. Unfortunately, one of the ogres saw his group, and now the ogres attacked from time to time. Lucky soldiers, they were never more than three or four ogres; Allyran's marksman were able to kill them or make them flee with a few arrow volleys before they reached the camp. The south pass was the one from whence they came; narrow and long, but sure, and no enemy saw them enter Alterac Mountains. The east pass led to Brill: once a little town inhabited by humble villagers and farmers, now a vestige of the horrors the Scourge brought to Lordaeron.

In the gloom of the eastern pass, a horn sounded. Godwin recognized it the first second the low note of Allyran's horn: the scouts were back in the camp. The archers suddenly appeared in the dark, led by Allyran; she wore the hood over her black hair, her eyes invisible in the shadow it caused. She threw the hood back, revealing her beautiful blue eyes that had tens of men in love. She smiled at him, and Godwin retained that moment in his memory. She barely smiled in those times. She knew that the war was about to start.

'It was about time you arrived', said Godwin to his friend.

'What? Did you started to worry about me?' mockingly said Allyran. 'I can take care of myself, big boy. Or do you question my hiding and archery skills?'

'Fortunately, you have improved those skills. Even at the age of seven, it was impossible to find you. I don't want to know how hard it is to find you now.'

'Quite hard for a brainless, no matter if it is an undead… or it is you', answered Allyran smiling to his friend. Godwin laughed.

'I'm happy to see you still have your sharp sense of humor. Now go, you must report to Amathor.'

'I know, I know. Marksman, you can rest.' The archers were already barefoot and lying in their tents.

Godwin was about to go upstairs to the watchtower again, but he decided to go to rest. He was very tired, training with the soldiers and leading a scout party south from Brill. Amathor was sending scout parties everywhere, to make sure the undead from Brill hadn't any allies nearby. He was a very cautious man, and King Wrynn had taught him well. Amathor didn't want to face another force of undead; since he had never fought them, he didn't know how strong they were. Perhaps a single rebel could kill ten ghouls, perhaps a single ghoul could kill a hundred soldiers. And beside that, Godwin had to help Halael and the Onyx Lions, the black lion in yellow background, set their tents, since they had arrived the camp that day. Godwin was so tired that, when he lay, it took him a couple seconds to fall deeply asleep.

The sound of horns awoke Godwin in the early morning. He tied his pants, put on the blue vest over the chainmail, and walked out his tent. Outside, the morning sun was barely shining on the valley, almost hidden by the cold snowy peaks. Halael, with his white long beard, Leonidas, Fademir, Fandral and Amathor were also leaving their tents and walking to the watchtower. Godwin was the first to go upstairs.

'My Lord, the Bloodthirsty Dragons have arrived', said the guard.

Godwin looked at them: a hundred soldiers, dressed in red and steel colored armors, with dragon-shaped crests; all under ten black banners with red dragons spitting blood. It was the biggest of the captain's armies, and they looked fierce and majestic. Godwin went downstairs and he stood at Amathor's right to receive, Thadeus, the legendary Born of Fire. The renowned captain stopped his horse a few feet from Amathor, and dismounted.

The tall knight walked upright and proud to Amathor. He was protected by golden vambraces, shoulder plates and greaves, a steel armor with red and golden details, and he wore red gloves, boots and cloak. His head was covered by a big helmet, steel and red, and a roaring dragon with its wings opened, golden and red, in the head, his eyes hidden before the lattice visor. He took off the helmet, showing his eyes, black as a hole in a night without moon. He had a scar running from beside his left eye to the chin, and a burn scar below. His black curly hair reached his shoulder, and he had a well cut beard, also black as coal. Two swords hung from his sides, and he had a dagger, tied with chains to his right arm.

'My Lord, my name is Thadeus, captain of the Bloodthirsty Dragons, the greatest elite force in all Azeroth. Just point the enemy, and we will burn him in our steel flames. No enemy, living or undead, shall stand against us!', swore Thadeus with his deep voice, rising his fist. Only he knew how many more scars he had.

'Thadeus, Born of Fire: Your name is well known by us. You are welcomed to our camp, of course; we are really thankful that you came. Unfortunately, there is still one missing commander. Hallyn and the Wind Knights haven't arrived yet', answered Amathor solemnly.

'Well, I hope he hurries. I want to kill those damned undead once and for all.'

'Then you'll have to wait. When he arrives, we will let him rest one day. Then we will march', announced Amathor. Thadeus nodded and began examining the camp. 'Godwin, help Thadeus set his tent.'

'Right away, sir. Thadeus, I'll show you where your troops can set their tents.'

'Finally. I just want to sleep a while before wielding my swords', said Thadeus, bending the right side of his mouth in a half-smile.

The Wind Knights arrived that afternoon, under banners of white pegasus on yellow. Hallyn and his troops arrived in horses covered with heavy armor and with white and yellow caparisons. Hallyn was one of the best knights in all Azeroth; no mounted warrior could defeat him when he wielded the lance and the shield. King Wrynn put legendary and renowned commanders to Amathor's disposal, and Godwin knew that all of them could die. Godwin himself could die in the battle. No one knew what their enemies had for them; no one knew how many days of life they had.


	4. Chapter 1 - Part 3

**Chapter 1: Rally the Army**

_**Amathor**_

He sat in the chair, studying the map before him at the candles light.

Lordaeron was definitively a vast kingdom, and it would take a really long time to conquer it all. Probably around a year, it could take even more. Amathor took a deep breath, thinking about the most convenient path to take. He should travel straight north after Brill's battle, or should he head south first, in order to purge Strahnbrad? '_Thadeus would say it is a waste of troops and time. It may give Sylvanas the time she needs to find out about our attacks. But on the other hand…_' Godwin had already shared his opinion, and Amathor had thought about it. '_If we clear Strahnbrad, supplies can come to our camp earlier. They might be attacked by the ogres if they have to come across the mountains, but if we clear the south frontier of Lordaeron…'_ Yet, they didn't know how many Undead inhabited Strahnbrad, and they might lose many soldiers.

Amathor went outside, where the snow was orange colored due of the sun's rays of the afternoon, and went to the ground where the soldiers were training. Fandral was fighting two rebels on his own, while a Bronze Sword quickly disarmed an Iron Shield. A Fire Hounds troop fought against two Bloodthirsty Dragons. Thadeus' troops where deadly, since they were roughly trained by their captain. It was said that Thadeus became completely another person in battle, that the rage and bloodthirst overwhelmed any army and that his frenzied swords were unstoppable when the blood started to dance around him at his swords music. Amathor had never seen him in battle, but it was certain that his warriors were as fierce as armored lions. They truly deserved the title of "deadliest company in all Azeroth", and Amathor was really grateful that they were his soldiers and not the enemy's. Amathor brushed with his fingers covered in wool and leather gloves the hilt of his sword, hanging on his right, but he had no time for sparring.

The noise in the mountains was stunning; a great part of the soldiers were still packing their things in the saddlebags, getting ready to march the next day. March to Bill, march to war; march to their destiny. Amathor went to the smith's tent, a big gray tent embroidered with a black hammer and with a large hole in the roof to let the forge's smoke come out. Marcus, a tall and stout man with husky arms and hairy body, wasn't even wearing a shirt; the forge's heat was enough even bare-chested. Still, he wore with proud the large black beard and the long hair. He had lived around thirty winters, and he showed in his chest a few scars, that looked even clearer in his tanned body.

'My Lord, your breastplate will be ready in a bit more than an hour. I already have the crest…'

'Thank you, Marcus, but I was about to ask you what about my banner.'

'Oh, the banner… Yes, Junior is working on it, in the other room.' Junior was Marcus son, a seventeen year old boy, identical to its father but with green eyes, instead of his father's brown. Amathor walked past the door after Marcus' invitation.

'I see you are pretty busy with the banner, so, I'll leave you alone' said Amathor when he saw Junior, snoring in a chair.

'Wha-… wait, what?' Answered the boy, and when he saw Amathor he jumped off the chair. 'My Lord, I'm so sorry, I… I…'

'You were tired and you went to sleep a while, I know. Don't panic off, little lad.' Said Amathor smiling, amused with Junior's shock.

'I'm sorry My Lord. I was almost all night long working on the banner…'

'You should rest a little. Unless you have a lot to do still…'

'Actually, it is almost finished my Lord. I'll have it ready for tonight.'

'Well, that's good news. I really want to ride under my personal banner when we start the Liberation. Once again, thank you, Marcus.'

'It's a pleasure, My Lord. I am always at your service. For the Liberation and glory.' Recited the young man, bringing his fist to his chest.

'_For the Liberation and glory_', thought Amathor, proud of the blacksmith's child. His army took the habit of saying that in his presence, as a salute to their general and as a motto of the Liberators. Probably work of Godwin, or Allyran. Amathor quickly adapted to the new army's words and took them as his motto, a sentence to encourage his man's hearts and swords. He took a look to the blue cloth over the table and smiled, since in a few weeks, the Undead were going to flee before the blue banner of the true king.

Amathor walked outside the tent, leaving his young friend working on the banner. He started to shuffle names in his head, thinking about who was appropriate to carry it; Godwin was a good choice, but he was also an excellent swordsman and Amathor didn't wanted to reduce his fighting skills making him carry the banner with one hand while fighting with the other. His standard-bearer was surely going to ride beside him, and he was surely going to fight at the center of the battlefield, so it was necessary to choose a strong man that knew how to carry and fight at the same time. Perhaps Marcus' son could do it; he made it, after all.

But those matters had to wait, because Godwin appeared before Amathor.

'Well, it's getting dark out here and we almost finished packing. It seems that we will be able to begin tomorrow, My Lord' solemnly said the captain.

'Many manners, Godwin. Today, my friend, we are brothers once again, and we shall celebrate our last dinner before we stain our swords in rotten undead blood. I want to believe that you are ready…'

'Me? Tell me who fought the orcs for ten years, you insolent youngling' smiled Godwin, hitting his chest with his gloved hands.

'Hey, I fought in the frontier too, don't forget it. Not that much time, but still…' Amathor knew that his friend was far more experienced in real combat than him.

'Yeah, yeah, you better go play with your wooden swords, I have to lead an army here'. The spicy humor was the best part of their conversations, and Amathor hit his shoulder laughing. Godwin patted his, and walked to his tent.

Amathor took a last view to the sparring yard, where the bruised soldiers were taking off their helmets and collapsing in the snow. '_This is happening_', he thought, '_this is finally happening, and I'm going to take my kingdom from the Forsaken and the Scourge, after all this years…_' Amathor smiled, but with a little sadness in his eyes; he fought in battle against the orcs, and he knew the fear of a horde of enraged beasts running in bloodthirsty screams to tear apart a man. But the undead… were they stronger than the orcs? Were they more of less? Were they disorganized as the green race or were they obedient creatures under a superior's command? Only time would tell; before, Amathor only knew they were compatriots that died tens of years ago.

The morning sunlight awoke the young prince, who quickly stood and put on his pants. He went out of his tent, just to see that the first men were awakening and getting out of their tents, still putting on their boots and the vests. Many soldiers saluted him with a smile, or nodding solemnly with their heads, indicating they were disposed to march and fight for him. Amathor inspired the cold, fresh air that permeated the mountain valley, and he mounted on his horse after putting on the blue surcoat over the chainmail. Marcus Junior came and handed him the breastplate. It had a white crown crimp in the center, with a ruby crimp thereof.

'It is a great work. Thank your dad for me.' Said Amathor, smiling. The boy nodded and walked to his tent.

Amathor took off the surcoat and replaced it with the armor. He rode to the center of the camp, where the soldiers were already awaken and talking. When they saw him, they shut up and looked at him. Some of them took their fists to their chest. '_For the Liberation and glory_', thought Amathor. He took a deep breath and looked to the east, where the sun peeked out amidst the mountain white and brown peaks. He drew his sword, _Thundersoul_, a long runesword forged in the dwarven forge and covered in magic runes. He felt the power of the sword when he wielded it, and the runes started to glow in blue energy, the mana, flowing through his arm and across the sharp edge of the blade. Amathor raised his arm and the Liberators shouted loud. When their euphoria ceased, Amathor spoke loudly.

'Liberators! Commanders, captains, soldiers and squires; footmen, pikemen, archers and riders: the wait has reached its end. We have been waiting for weeks this moment, the moment in which we march against our foes, against those who slain our forefathers. Slyvanas, Varimathras, Kel'Thuzad, these are nefarious names of the enemies that will try to destroy us and include us among their ranks; The Scourge and the Forsaken, these are the evil armies that fight each other for control of Lordaeron. Today, my friends… today we march east, to enter the realm of Lordaeron and free it from the Undead tyranny! Today we march east, straight to war, with our heads up and determined eyes! Today we march east, to the rising sun and the bright day that will shine when we kill the Lich King's champions! In this day, our Liberation begins, and it will not end until we triumph with tired arms and rusty armors, or we die with proud faces and our swords stained with undead blood! For Liberation, my friends… FOR LIBERATION, AND GLORY!'

Amathor's horse reared when he pointed at the east and a white and yellow lightning torrent emanated from _Thundersoul_. A loud shout shook the snow from the peaks, a war cry, a furious scream emerged from the depths of the very souls of the men that surrounded him. An armored man appeared beside him, and when he took off his helmet, Marcus Junior appeared below. He was carrying his standard, and Amathor looked up at it: the blue banner with the white crown, crimp its ruby in the center waved in the wind, the banner of an exiled prince, the banner of the true King of Lordaeron. The proud and eager army marched through the eastern mountain pass.

They marched to Lordaeron. They marched to war. They marched to liberation.


	5. Chapter 2 - Part 1

**Chapter 2: The Liberation Begins**

_**Godwin**_

He walked through the vegetation of the forest, or the remains of it. The dark, gray trees grew quite separated from each other and the silence of the dead woods was overwhelmingly loud. Twenty soldiers followed Godwin, who was carefully picking the sites where his feet trod, avoiding any rotten branch; the thick fog and the roof of logs and branches almost completely prevented the light from entering the forest, and the rebels sight was very limited; a dragon could stand twenty meters from them, and they wouldn't notice. Godwin couldn't even see all of his men: fifteen swordsman and five archers, walking as silently as it was possible.

Allyran and Kay were in charge of the other two recon groups. A hundred yards separated them when they entered the forest, but Godwin could not say how many were between them at that time. He didn't know either how much time had they walked in the forests: ten, fifteen minutes? Maybe more, maybe less… The anxiety was consuming him; in any moment, an undead could jump from nowhere and tear his throat; he wasn't wearing a helmet. The helmet prevented him from breathing well, hindered his sight and limited his hearing. He wore the sword in the right hand and the shield in the left arm. The blade appeared to be made of iron in the darkness of the forest, and a white glow in the gloomy steel ran from end to end when he swung it.

Godwin saw in something in the floor, gray and tiny. He knelt and examined it.

'What is it?' Asked one of the soldiers.

'Nothing… just a skeleton. A squirrel, apparently.' Godwin said.

He was about to stand when the little skeleton moved its head and looked at Godwin, with its empty sockets. Godwin shook and quickly attacked it with his sword, but the dead rodent was faster and started to run away. It slipped through the trees before Godwin could say anything. He watched all around him, trying to find it, but it was useless.

'By the Light! The shook almost killed me!' Godwin said.

'Did that squirrel just… just…?' Said one of the archers, a young boy.

'What? Are you scared? That's just the beginning. You're going to see a couple of moving skeletons in the next few months, you know? Unless they kill you before' Mockingly answered one of the soldiers.

'Silence!' Snapped Godwin. 'I heard som-'

Just in that moment, he felt a big thing falling over his back, making a weird noise, between a whisper and a squeak. He fell in a root, and he felt the taste of blood in his mouth. He rolled in the ground and ended laying face up, just to see a squalid creature, with big claws and head, similarly to a skeleton. _Ghouls_, he thought before grabbing his sword from his side and hitting the beast in its ribs. The ghoul fell beside him, and he stood while one of the soldiers stabbed the creature's heart from his back. The ghoul screamed, but it simply got out of the blade walking ahead, straight to Godwin, with its arms before. Godwin moved right, cut off his arms, gave a full turn to the left and beheaded it. The ghoul finally stopped growling and died. When he looked at his soldiers, they were struggling against more ghouls. There were around fifteen ghouls left, and four soldiers lay on the ground, bleeding; none of them was moving. Godwin charged against the nearest creature; he skewed the ghoul on its left side, and his sword got out in the right side of the beast's neck. The ghoul turned at him and in that moment, the soldier killed it by nailing his sword on its head. Godwin looked at him and the soldier nodded firmly, just before another ghoul came out of the mist and bit his neck. The soldier fell, screaming, and Godwin stabbed the ghoul's head, furious.

'Damned bastards!' He shouted loud. He looked at the other soldiers just in time to see the last ghoul receive an arrow in the head. 'Check our soldiers!'

'Right away, sir.' Answered one of the soldiers, while starting to verify how many soldiers were dead. 'My lord, there surely are more of them in the forest.'

'And an army in the town. We must warn Amathor right now. How many dead?'

'Six, my Lord, and Jaremy is seriously injured.'

Godwin knew Jaremy. A young man, around nineteen years old. '_For fucks safe…_'

'We must go back. Now.'

'But captain…'

'Now!'

Godwin turned back and hastily trotted back, avoiding every root on his way. The metal footsteps were almost stunning in the forest silence. The only sound he heard beside it was his fast breathing and Jaremy's groans of pain. They ran and ran, without a stop, through the tall, thin and mossy ominous trees, with the fear of more ghouls jumping from the misty woods and slaying them. Luckily, they were able to go outside the forest without more skirmishes.

'Amathor! Where is Amathor? I must talk urgently to him…' Godwin said when they arrived the camp.

'Godwin? What is it, my friend? What…?' Amathor appeared between the soldiers, followed by Kay and Thadeus. _So, Kay is already back_, thought Godwin. 'What happened to your soldiers?' Amathor asked when he counted only fourteen soldiers and saw the injured boy. 'Take him to the clerics tent.' He ordered to the soldiers carrying Jaremy.

'My lord… the mist is very thick. We did not see them until we had them upon us…' Godwin was exhausted because of the run and had to breathe a couple times before he could talk again. 'Amathor, there are ghouls in the forest. They were about fifteen when they ambushed us. My lord, even the beasts are undead in this land… I saw a skeleton of a squirrel moving.'

'Back at Alterac Mountains, when Allyran returned from Brill, she said that the ghouls in the town were around a hundred ghouls.'

'Yes… a hundred, at least. And I don't think Allyran could see every single undead in there. We will probably find deadliest creatures in that town…' said Kay.

'Let them be whatever they want to be. We are going to kill them all anyway. Come on, Amathor. Don't let fifteen ghouls frighten your heart. You have more than a thousand soldiers; isn't that enough? We can take them with half our army. Apparently, those ghouls are not very strong. Our soldiers wiped out those fifteen, with only six casualties. We must strike now!' Answered Thadeus, anxious for the incoming battle.

'… Thadeus is right. We should cross this forest and take those undead to their graves once again.' Said Godwin, and just in that moment, a soldier approached Amathor.

'The Marksman are back, my lord.' Allyran was beside him.

'Nothing to worry in the woods. I reached Brill and came back without any misadventure.'

'See, Kay? Those were some roaming ghouls that went outside Brill, surely searching for some fresh flesh.' Thadeus said.

'What? Did you…' Allyran started to ask.

'A group of ghouls attacked me and my soldiers while scouting in the woods. They ambushed us from the mist.' Answered Godwin, interrupting her.

'So, what are we waiting for, Amathor? Lets take them out!' Urged Thadeus.

'Right. Order the soldiers to get ready for battle, now.' Said Amathor, and the sergeants nodded and started to give the order to the soldiers. Thadeus smiled. 'What are you waiting for, Born of Fire? Don't tell me now that you are not coming.'


End file.
